why are you sad, Jace?

It was probably 2 AM and we were still on the couch when I looked over at him and said: “I do like you, you know.” I told him that I didn’t want us to call this anything because I didn’t want to ruin it and he said that he wasn’t going to call it anything because I seemed like the type that didn’t want to be claimed. He was right in a way and wrong in another.

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I know how I’m doing

I listened to other writers talk about students, Italy, tomatoes, politics. Everyone there was definitely out of my league so I tried to lean back some more, listening and watching as orange went purple then blue then black and then I mentioned, a bit tipsy now, that I liked rocks. 

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ready to go

Why am I not interesting or pretty or cool enough for you? What am I fundamentally MISSING that makes me so “other” from everyone else… so bleh and ehhhhhh and take-it-or-leave-it-but-better-just-leave-it?  

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How hurting has helped me

I love him, and he doesn’t speak to me. I love him, and he doesn’t hold my hand. I love him, and he doesn’t dance with me. And I love him. 

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What makes me forget to eat

There’s no sense in asking it to leave, because it’s a one-way conversation, where I can hear everything it says but it registers nothing I say. Some days, we carry on together for miles… at other times, for mere minutes. 

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